आशाएं २०११

THE SUN shone brightly, the day was beautiful.
The rainbow was its usual 7 colors, but somehow, the feeling wasn’t full.

It was then, that we set out to dream and conquer,
A bunch of guys and girls, with just a vision and an empty bunker.

People came along, the dream got bigger.
The vision found its way to a beautiful picture.

The picture which we all are trying to paint the color of humanity and empathy.
Seeing them smile and live atleast a day of their lives the way they deserve, shall be our victory

Tomorrow
The sun will shine brightly; the day will be beautiful,
The rainbow will be its usual 7 colors and we’ll be happy to have made a small part of the world cheerful.

The Baggage and The Morrow

It is the time of the day when you want to come home to a person who takes the baggage off your shoulders. The baggage of tiredness, exhaustion, drowsiness, dejection and sometines...hopelessness.

No matter how you manage to keep yourselves occupied throughout the day- sometimes may be to avoid the thought of being lonely to strike and other times just to tire yourself to the extent that at the end of the day you crash on your bed, already half-asleep, to sleep the night away...dreamlessly.

But for some, even being on their toes doesnt help.
They have had a long day. True. They are in dire need of a good human sleep. Again True. But when they recline to their space, another world-one of their own-opens up to them. Their own clock starts ticking.

They find all the inertia accumulated throughout the day has evaporated. They feel charged up...to dream with eyes open, to plan love (ironically), to wish and to hope.

This space, their "Eat, Pray, Love" zone takes them away from the hassles of real life and strained relationships, into a world that they want to build.

And the real life sleep that follows is sweet, full of optimism.

The body is put to rest while the heart and mind, together, say- TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY...

Life and Fevicol...

Hi all...
Just another day when i had decided to get a bit organised, I started out with cleaning the dust off my desk. I made separate room for literally everything, including a tube of fevicol whose cap had run loose.
So... it took me a good couple of hours to set things right but I felt immense pride and sense of worth after I was done.

At bedtime, when i had this urge to see the beautiful town that I had resurrected in the afternoon, I pulled out the drawers one-by-one. I didn't know this would take the next 60 minutes of my already sleep-deprived soul.

For a couple of seconds, i could not realize what was wrong with the third drawer and its contents.

Then it struck me that the fevicol tube had tilted and the cap had goner for a stroll, alone. And the city was, obviously, painted white.

I was more vexed than sorry. My favorite candies had drowned in the white, I had an urge to throw the entire drawer out the window at once.
But i decided against it and carried the drawer to the4 bathroom.

As i lifted every single thing out of the box, i realized the situation was stickier than i had assumed.

And it was then that this post was conceived. As I was running water over the washables, like the 3 inkpots and color boxes, and had dumped the rest, like some papers and *ouch* the candies, I realized there were patterns and cuts on them that I had never noticed, not before now when they were filled with fevicol and I was made to take it out of them.

I realized how similar life is. There always is a tacit part in relations that we keep closest to our hearts. We might never realize it. But, when the relations are drowned in the fevicol of problems, do we see all those areas that we thought never existed before.

Only... here I could wash them clean and put them back in their place.

While relations are more like the unwashables that I had dumped...thoughtlessly.

Yet another Outburst

I wish I sleep tonight and never wake up again, never see the Sun again, take the memories of this dark sans-moon night in my eyes and close them forever...
I wish I never see anyone of the people-with whom I've shared my life of 20 yrs.-again. I am just so sick. So tired. So exhausted. So spent.
Rational thinking has given way and now I only wish I had never lived that day, when the truth was revealed, when my beliefs shattered. When i felt like an orphan.

Yes. I could never rise above that fact. And i could not even live with it. So, i chose the mid-way. I chose to hate those very people who, once upon a time & for the most part of my life, were my life.

It was difficult, ask me. But i was determined not to get hurt by anyone after that one incident. I kept my stride. I always won. I would hurt people, so they wouldn't, couldn't, hurt me back. But, i was only a loser. War has no victors. My soul would die, daily...a part of it.

I would sneer at my people- at their agony, at my victory- victory over something certainly unknown. But when i woke up, when- for a second- I saw the world around me without the glasses of hatred on, I saw my own people- agonized, pained, suffering.

I realized what i had done was not to them, but to my own mortal self. As it is, life is never an exam where u could cut out the whole answer attempted wrongly and make a fresh beginning. It is about life. If i do it wrong, it is wrong forever.

I wish i dont wake up tomorrow, or any morrow for that matter...

ek ghaav tha, jo bhar gaya...ek nishaan hai, jo reh gaya.

He and I were completely engrossed in each other, only, he was 50 kms. away and I was on the middle of a road, trying to cross it to reach the station that would take me to him.
As i put a step forward, my heart and mind still with him, my knee jerked and the first step I took brought me down, right on my knees.
It was a wound. But, with my heart and mind still with him, I knew nothing could possibly go wrong. That that was nothing.
Though afterwards, he did tell me how awful the wound was and that i must tend to it.
But i, being myself, ignored it out of the fear of ignoring him.
Now i realize. I did not have my eyes on the path that i had chosen & so, I got hurt-right at the place where it hurt the most.

Now, though the wound has healed, the scar remains. And THIS is everything I have of him...of us.

Forgotten

Closing my eyes, I force a beautiful scene to play and replay before them;
The scene that had u and me, that had love and passion
But my eyes open, to a horrible today, when u are gone;
When I realize I am without u alive, alone and
FORGOTTEN…

With you, summers were sunny, now they sweat
With you, rains meant passion, now they are only wet
With you, winters were a hot cup of coffee, now they are cold.
With you, I was one in a million, now…just another in a million..
FORGOTTEN…

You have chosen your path; I shall trudge alone, on my own.
But your memories, them shall I cherish dawn after every dawn…

When i was my daddy's lil girl...

Walking down the memory lane, I see a young girl, anticipation brimming her two big eyes as the clock showed 5:30 in the evening, the time when she would hear her papa's footsteps trudging urgently up the stairs.
Putting all her homework aside, proud of completing it in scheduled time yet again, she searched for a new place to hide in their small home.
She played the whole sequence of actions in her mind again & again and laughed and clapped happily to herself.
She loved her papa. This love was different. She thought if there was one person who could be perfect, it was him.If he said something, it was more of a psalm than a statement. She adored him since when she did not even know what “to adore” meant.

Then…she grew up.

Now, when he, as usual, returned from work at 5:30, a couple of things had changed. Firstly, a new fancy and huge apartment took p[lace of their relatively poor home and secondly, she knew what “to adore” meant and certainly had changed preferences.
Life was its mechanical self where human emotions do not lubricate the wagon to move forward but only increase friction to develop heat among relationships.
This small girl, now big, was me.

And then came one day when my mother’s friend, with her 8 month old girlie, visited us.
It poured heavily and God was in no mood to relent his decision for the less privileged.
The baby grew restless as the minutes converted into hours and she still had no sight of her father.

Then, fighting the winds and the water, he arrived. That was the moment when I bade them goodbye that made me ponder- When did I grow up?? Why did I grow up??

We waited outside our apartment for him to arrive. At the first sight of his, she threw an electric smile. And when they, her mother holding her, sat pillion to her father, she grew so ecstatic that she jumped on her lil space that she stood on and beat his helmet while chuckling a perfect baby laugh.

All he had to do was take her in his arms and she clung on to him as if making up for the time when she missed him and he wasn’t there…

I saw all this & could think of only one thing while their vehicle paced out of my vision- What if she grows up and realizes that she WAS once her daddy’s lil girl…??

The thought left a vacuum in me...